


Light the Lantern

by plethoriall



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plethoriall/pseuds/plethoriall
Summary: What do you do when you have a cute missionary knocking at your door?Corrupt him, obviously
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 30
Kudos: 196





	Light the Lantern

The Habs are playing the Canes in an afternoon match-up, he’s got a bowl full of chips, and he deserves a day of being as lazy as humanly possible. Life is good.

He’s just settling in for the long haul when the doorbell chimes. His eyes go skyward. _Why_. If it’s Jake at the door again, asking if he wants to work out together right after a fucking back-to-back, he can’t be held accountable for his actions.

It’s not Jake. He flings the door open to find a surprisingly cute dark-haired man, in a white shirt, black slacks and tie. He’s dressed like- what are they called? Door-to-door preachers? He’s seen them walking up the street in pairs before, turned away a few by pretending not to speak English. It’s incredibly effective, and he already knows he won’t be using that technique with this one.

“Hi, I’m Sidney. I’m a missionary from the Church of-“

“Where is other one?”

The man flinches. “Excuse me?”

“There’s two of you. Where is other one?” Geno leans around the doorframe, scanning up and down his driveway and making the missionary take a few steps back.

“He had to-” Sidney trails off. His eyes are wide and he’s obviously uncomfortable. “There was a-”

“Big.. Religious emergency?” Geno asks helpfully.

“Yes, there was an incident he had to deal with,” Sidney says like the words don’t quite fit in his mouth. Interesting. A lying missionary. There’s a beat of awkward silence where Sidney chews on his fat bottom lip. Geno is patient, and intrigued by the time Sidney gets his words back.

“Would you like to hear-“

“Yes, yes, come in.”

He’s not certain what he’s getting himself into, but curious enough to see where it leads. Sidney seems easy to throw off his purpose, so there’s probably little risk he’s about to get a lecture on his sinful lifestyle. Plus there’s something adorable about the deer in headlights look he gave when Geno knocked him off his script. It’ll probably be more entertaining to watch than the Habs secure their third loss in a row.

He checks Sidney out on the way in – those slacks look like they’re reaching critical capacity around the ass and thighs. He’s confused for a moment when Sidney pauses to take his shoes off in the entryway. It’s weirdly endearing – he’s used to teammates catapulting themselves onto his couch with muddy soles. And then the way Sidney’s eyes light up when he sees the screen in the living room is even more so.

“You like hockey, Sidney?”

“I grew up watching the Habs.” His eyes haven’t left the screen, darting as they track the puck. A Habs fan. Geno reminds himself that everyone has their flaws.

“You watch Pens?” That tears Sidney’s eyes away. The faintest of a blush appears on his cheeks. Oh, he _definitely_ recognizes him. Probably too polite to say so immediately. Cute.

“I do sometimes. You guys are really good.”

Geno shrugs. “Not just good, we best.”

Sidney’s eyes widen. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Is fine, Sidney. Sit,” Geno says and gestures at the couch. He’s glad this unexpected guest arrived before it became littered with chip debris.

The fact Sidney’s a hockey fan has several immediate benefits. Watching the game distracts Sidney from the monologue he was definitely about to torture Geno with, and puts him in a state of ease Geno isn’t sure he would be able to achieve on his own.

He relaxes back into the cushions of the couch, accepts a bottle of water and even shares his opinions on some of the plays. His surprisingly dorky laugh echoes through the house and he seems to have forgotten the reason he found himself knocking on Evgeni Malkin’s door. Geno rests his arm along the back of the couch, tantalizingly close to having it around Sidney’s shoulders. That’s probably not in the cards, but a man can dream.

It seems a shame to put him back on edge, but Geno is curious.

“What happened with friend?”

The internal battle of the truth vs. _religious emergency_ is written across Sidney’s face. “He went to visit his girlfriend. They don’t get much time together unsupervised, you see.”

“He has girlfriend, leave you to do job alone. Bad friend.”

Sidney looks scandalized. “Jack would do the same for me. Plus, I offered.”

“You have girlfriend?”

“No.” Missionary Sidney shifts on the couch and Geno knows it’s an uncomfortable subject. Interesting. Will help cover up for his friend, but the idea of having a girlfriend himself makes him nervous.

“Tell me about you, Sidney.”

“Well I’m a missionary for the Church-“

“No, not that. Is boring. Tell me about you.”

“It’s not _boring_-“ Sidney protests, but Geno holds up his hand.

“Is boring. What you do for fun, Sidney?”

“You can call me Sid. I like to read, uh, cook.” Sid pauses for a moment and Geno can almost see his brain working at full speed. Surely it can’t be that difficult to think of what he likes to do for fun beyond reading? “Sometimes in the winter we play pond hockey. It’s nothing like you’re used to, obviously, but it’s pretty fun.” He looks like he’s expecting to be made fun of. Geno frowns.

“Don’t have to be pro to enjoy. Probably more fun to play when not pro.” It’s true – the most enjoyment he’s had from hockey, aside from the euphoria of winning the Stanley Cup, has been when he wasn’t under the watchful eye of trainers. He hopes to one day rediscover that joy when he retires.

“You’re probably right.” Sid’s smile is crooked and shows just as much in his eyes. It lays him bare, pulls at the edges of the serious mask he had been wearing. And with that small shift, the conversation between them starts to flow without reservation, exchanging stories of childhood mishaps on ice. He and Sid are not as different as he would have assumed, and that revelation makes Geno’s chest feel oddly full. It leads to him blurting out the next part.

“Want to see Stanley Cup ring?”

Sid’s breath audibly catches at the question.

“Uh, yes, definitely.”

He keeps the ring and his Olympic medals in his bedroom, in a display case which has been the subject of mocking by everyone who has seen it. Geno doesn’t care. It’s a good motivator when he’s struggling to get out of bed for practice. And now it’s lured Sidney into his bedroom.

Sid holds the ring like it might shatter at the slightest jolt. It reminds Geno of lifting the Stanley Cup for the first time, how terrified and overjoyed he was at the responsibility placed in his hands. Then later that same night, drunkenly flinging it into a pool.

“You see why I don’t wear around?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Sid says. Geno has to force himself not to automatically respond with _you know what else is big_ after decades of locker room stupidity.

He lets Sid hold the Olympic medals next, and basks in the smile that lights up his face. Eventually he’s out of hardware and they sit side by side on the edge of his bed, leafing through commemorative booklets. He points out a few people in the photos and can’t resist saying “biggest idiot” when Ovechkin’s grin leers up at them from a Team Russia photo. That had been the night Sasha had tried to fight a very unimpressed, very sober Gonch. To a drunk the sea is only knee-deep, after all.

“Is this your girlfriend?” Sidney points at one of the smaller photos where he has his arm around Anna. She’d been glowing that night, so happy for him. He smiles at the memory.

“Best friend. We have arrangement for these events.”

“Arrangement?”

“Yes, make sense for us both. Russia is not a kind place for gay people. She’s not want people to know about her, I’m not want them to know about me.” Geno shrugs. It’s worked for them. They take some photos each summer, the Russian media falls all over themselves to print them, Geno’s left alone and nobody asks any questions about Anna’s beautiful ‘roommate’.

Sidney has acquired that deer in headlights look again. Geno leans back, forces himself to relax and wait it out. What happens now is up to Sid. He can panic, run out the door and Geno won’t stop him. Or, if Geno has been reading this correctly, he’s curious. And Geno can work with curious.

“You ever kiss a man, Sid?”

Sid shakes his head. He’s fidgeting with his tie.

“Would you like to?”

“Yes,” Sid says so quietly he barely picks it up. Geno sees the way he’s avoiding eye contact, the tension in Sidney’s shoulders like his own admission shocks him.

He knows he shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way Sid’s eyes lingered on him in the living room, his cheeks tinting pink when Geno caught him staring.

Geno leans in, brushes his lips against Sid’s cheek by his mouth. There’s a sharp inhale, but no indication he wants Geno to stop. He draws away, takes in Sid’s frozen-in-place expression.

“Okay?”

Once Sid nods his assent, Geno leans in again, presses their lips together this time, gentle and soft. When they part, Sid’s mouth also parts a little, and the look in his eyes is all the encouragement Geno needs to dive back in.

The next kiss is not as filthy as Geno wants to make it. He wants to bite that fat bottom lip, push his tongue into Sid’s mouth and follow him down onto the bed. Instead it’s a kiss that’s slow, cautious for Sid’s inexperience, and tests every ounce of Geno’s self-control. When Sid allows Geno’s tongue into his mouth, even reciprocates, Geno loses himself in the moment. He smooths his hands down Sid’s back, a finger trailing under his belt-

Sid pulls away, his eyes wild and panicky. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” Geno curses himself for spooking him. But Sid hasn’t gotten up, hasn’t moved to put distance between any part of them beyond their lips. Perhaps he just needs reassurance.

“What you think your friend do right now? Play chess with girl?” He brushes a curl away from Sid’s forehead. “If you say no, we stop. But if you’re curious, trust I’m not do anything you’re not like.”

Sid nods, but Geno can tell he’s still apprehensive. He understands. He remembers the first time he fooled around with another man, the nerves and hammering of his heart more like he was headed to the gallows than exchanging handjobs.

“You’re virgin, Sid?”

Sid nods again, confirms what Geno already knew. He should feel bad, maybe, taking a virgin to bed so shortly after meeting him. He should make it special, take his time to allow an ease to grow between them before taking that step. But something about Sid has him unhinged, willing to do things backwards. He reassures himself that the second Sid expresses any reluctance, he’ll back off. But he’ll go as far as Sid is willing to let him.

“You do _anything_ before?”

“I, uh, jerk off if that’s what you’re asking.” That’s definitely not what he’s asking, but it’s an answer in itself. Geno allows himself a brief moment to picture Sid in a twin bed, knowing he shouldn’t be touching himself and biting his lip to stay quiet-

He surges forward to capture Sid’s lips again.

They get lost in making out, Geno letting his hands roam twice as slow as he usually would. Sid even returns the attention after a while, seems to appreciate his biceps if the breathy way he sighs when he runs his fingers over them is an indication. Taking the cue, Geno pulls his t-shirt off, watches with pride and some smugness at the way Sid’s eyes drink him in. Yet another bonus of working out for a living.

He kisses Sid for longer between each piece of their clothing he takes off. It seems to ground him into a warm and pliant state, keep the tension from sneaking back into his body. Plus, after a while of making out on the bed, Sid is gaining confidence, learning what he likes and how to use his lips. It’s fucking hot. Geno has his thigh wedged between Sid’s legs, they’re down to their underwear, and he’s listening to the quiet sighs Sid makes as they rub against each other.

“Can take off? Will make you feel good.” Geno gestures to Sidney’s underwear. The final frontier. He emphasizes his point by grinding his thigh against Sid’s groin again, causing him to shudder.

Sid’s eyes meet his and he looks both wary and turned on. “You’ll go slow?”

“I’m go very slow,” Geno promises.

And then Sid is naked and splayed before him, lips kiss-swollen and cock painfully hard. His legs are shaking for reasons Geno is certain have nothing to do with the cold.

Sid must be hitting the gym _hard_ between.. missionary meetings? How does he have those thighs? Whatever he’s doing, the result is thick and breathtaking. He’s reminded of the moment he approaches a dessert cart after the post-season. There’s so much he wants to taste, it’s tough to decide where to begin.

If he’s not going to take Sidney on dates before his first time, he’s at least going to bring his best foreplay into the mix. He kisses below Sid’s ear just to hear that soft noise again, then trails down toward his chest. Sid’s nipples are puffy and he wonders if they’re as sensitive as they look. He presses his lips forward, touches them to the little bud. A leg twitches beneath him. Yes, sensitive.

He opens his mouth, wet and warmth causing Sid’s breath to hitch as works his tongue. Sidney’s fingers tangle into his hair, cautious at first and then grasping when Geno sucks. Sid’s erection is rubbing against his stomach with impatience, and he knows exactly what his next move will be. He kisses his way further down.

His dick is just as pink as his lips, pretty and begging for attention that Geno is eager to give it. He exhales onto the sensitive skin and Sid squirms beneath him.

“Okay?“

Sid wets his lips with his tongue and looks the most thoughtful he’s ever seen someone look when offered a blowjob.

“Normal to be nervous,” he says, smoothing his hands over Sid’s thighs while he makes his decision.

Eventually Sid nods, doesn’t seem to be able to speak, so Geno launches into action. He reaches up to grab a pillow and holds it by Sidney’s hip. They stare at each other for a second, before he realizes there’s no way for Sid to know he’s supposed to lift up.

“I’m putting pillow under you, makes for-“ Geno pauses, wondering how to explain to a virgin that this is a game of angles. “Just makes better,” Geno finishes, and Sid seems to get with the program. He lifts his hips, anyway.

And then Geno is between his legs, lowering his mouth, and pushing his tongue against the slit that’s already leaking precum. He can hear Sid’s heavy breathing, feel the way his whole body has tensed up.

He grips the base of Sid’s cock with one hand, braces himself on the bed with the other, and goes to work.

“Oh, oh wow.” Sid doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Geno smiles around the cock in his mouth. He’s good at this, doesn’t do it nearly as often as he would like.

He presses his tongue against the underside of Sid’s dick as he slides his mouth up and down. He’s not trying to deepthroat – he’s not sure Sid is ready for how messy and loud that can get – but what he’s doing is still producing jagged breathing from Sid. If he didn’t have both hands occupied, he’d reach down and stroke himself. He resorts to grinding his dick against the mattress.

Once he’s in a steady rhythm, his hand migrates from around Sid’s dick to cupping his balls. It lets him get his mouth a little further down, and there’s room for one of the fingers cupping Sid’s balls to go behind-

Sid flinches when Geno touches a fingertip to his hole. Geno just rests it there as he works his mouth. Fingering Sid would be a step too far, but he can’t resist playing with that sensitive spot a little. Sid relaxes again, seems to trust Geno to not to go further than teasing. He’s covered most of his face with his arm but Geno can see him peeking from underneath. He looks overwhelmed, pink, and desperate - it kills Geno that he won’t get to see him taking his dick.

Sid’s not loud but he starts making soft moans under his breath in rhythm with the bobs of Geno’s head. _He’s trying to keep quiet_, Geno thinks, and knows that he’ll be using that information for jerk-off material later. He can think of a few things they could work up to which might get Sid _wailing_-

“I’m-” Geno feels Sid’s hands feebly try to push him away right before he shudders, gasps, and spills into his mouth with almost no warning. He keeps his eyes locked on Sid’s scrunched up face as he swallows and tries not to come on the duvet at the sight.

Geno pulls back to kneel between Sid’s legs, watching the way his chest rises and falls like he just ran a marathon. He’s proud of his work - all the tension has left Sid’s body and he’s not sure he’s seen anything as beautiful. He did that. Best at hockey, best at sucking dick.

“Does it always feel like that?”

Geno shrugs. “Can make feel even better.” _If you let me do it again_, he doesn’t say.

Sid’s eyes flick down to where Geno is pressing his palm against his erection for some kind of relief. “What about you?”

“I come on stomach?”

“Can I try with my hand? I mean, if that’s okay-” Geno’s cock twitches.

“_Yes_. Yes, very okay. One second.” Geno leans over to grab the lube from the bedside table. Sid holds his hand out expectantly and Geno earmarks that knowledge for later review – Sid’s jerked off enough to know the slicker the better. The fantasy’s getting more vivid by the minute.

He deliberates straddling Sidney’s chest and having him work his cock from that angle, but that would probably be too intimidating. He settles on pressing their bodies together, side by side, as Sid takes him in hand. They exchange sloppy kisses, more panting into each other’s mouths than anything else. Geno’s been on edge for a while and the grip on his dick is just firm enough. He forces himself not to thrust into Sid’s fist out of desperation, but it barely takes a dozen strokes to have him moaning into Sid’s neck and coating his hand.

He grabs a tissue from the nightstand and wipes at the mess on Sid’s palm, then pulls him close as they catch their breath, the feeling of sweaty skin pressed together overridden by the need to make sure he’s okay with what just happened. Sid looks the most relaxed he’s been since the moment Geno laid eyes on him, a soft smile on his face and heavy lids. _Fucked out_, Geno thinks with satisfaction.

“You can stay the night?”

“No- Actually I, uh, probably should get going soon.” Geno’s heart sinks and Sid seems to sense it. “It’s just time kinda got away from me and Jack will get worried.”

“How often does Jack visit girlfriend?”

“As often as he can.”

Time to shoot his shot. “And how often you visit me?”

He wants to see Sidney again, not even just for the sex. He wants to hear that goofy laugh, find out if they have more in common. See if against all the odds, this tentative affection between them can grow.

Sid smiles at him, and there’s a glimmer of something warm in his chest that tells him they will.

“As often as I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> Copious amounts of blushing and hand-waveyness. AU, so only one cup win and a bunch of other things slightly off
> 
> This idea wouldn’t leave me alone. I’ve never written Sid/Geno before so hopefully this isn’t terrible!


End file.
